chance to know her.”
“Well,” he said drily after a moment, “I hope you at least left your family a note.”
“Of course. I don’t want them to worry.” She glanced at the dusty wall-dial timepiece, which read midnight. “I doubt they have seen it yet. They’re probably still at Almack’s. Blade, are you going to show me back to the inn, or am I going to have to find my own way? ”
He did not answer at once. “Why don’t you stay here for a while? Sleep on the matter before you go all the way to France. You can take my bed.”
She dropped her hand and gave him a startled look.
“I hate the thought of you out there alone. No one will harm you here, I give you my word—and who knows? I might find the influence of so much beauty… elevating to my moral sense.”
Blushing with a little smile at his echo of her earlier words, she looked away, her long curls falling forward to veil her face. “That’s really very sweet, but my mind is made up. I am determined to reach the coast by dawn. Besides, all my things are still at the inn. My post chaise will be waiting.”
“Suit yourself, then.” He looked away, irrationally stung by her refusal, but still seeking some way to keep her a bit longer. “May I ask you a question?”
“I suppose.”
“What exactly were these ‘sins’ your mother committed that were so awful?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Aye, I’m asking.”
She stared at him for a second, then lowered her lashes. “Mama had six children by four different men.” Lifting her gaze again, the defiance in her dark eyes warned him that his reaction to her revelation would determine everything between them.
If she was worried about him passing moral judgment, she would have done well to recall his occupation. Careful to keep his expression nonchalant, he lifted his eyebrows wryly before taking another sip of wine. “Impressive.”
Relief skimmed her fine features at his smooth acceptance of her secret. “She was beautiful and brilliant—and brave, as well. Most of the men were in love with her, and most of the women… hated her.”
“I see.” He lowered his gaze, studying a small hole in the knee of his trousers. “So, your dam made a scandal of herself… and now all the ton expects you to prove a ‘frail vessel,' as well?“
“Precisely. They’re no doubt laying wagers on it even now. ”How long before that girl comes to ruin, and with whom?“ Especially Daphne Taylor.”
“Who?”
“The plague of my existence. She’s the daughter of Viscount Erhard—the
reigning beauty
of the Season,” she said in droll sarcasm, then waved it off impatiently. “Oh, but let her talk. The ton will never have the satisfaction of seeing me fall into scandal. I may misbehave from time to time, but unlike my mother, I know to a very hair’s breadth the limits of what I can get away with. I had better know,” she added cynically. “I was still in the schoolroom when the whole ton began predicting that ‘Georgiana’s daughter’ would prove a wanton.”
He would kill whoever said that about her, he thought with a rush of violence, but he checked it, holding her in his fascinated stare.
“Well,” he asked slowly, “are you?”
She looked startled by his dangerous question, but for a long moment held his gaze expectantly with a look of innocent perplexity, as though she wondered if
he
might hold the answer. “Truthfully? I’m… not sure.”
A jolt of electric hunger ran through him.
She smiled candidly, blushing as relief flitted over her youthful face at having set her secret free.
He realized full well that she had just told him something even more important than her name, and though she was innocent, he knew an invitation in a woman’s eyes when he saw it.
“Would you like to find out?” he murmured.
Her burning blush and shy silence could only be interpreted one way.
He got up quietly, set his wineglass aside, and crossed the few feet between with three